Anno Domini
by trodgorrr
Summary: Rumors have been circulating about the death of Commander Shepard. Her beating heart says otherwise. She hopes the same cannot be said for Cerberus. - Picks up right after Mass Effect 3 ends (Destroy). Contains heavy spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - The Destroy ending was vague and very bittersweet, and I was dissatisfied with where it left off. Shepard lived, and this is my version of what happens to her after the events that end ME3. Contains massive spoilers - please don't read this if you haven't finished the entire series and don't want it ruined._

 _Major playthrough choices, in case it just so happens to align with yours: Femshep, romanced Garrus, infiltrator/sniper, Paragon path, took a few Renegade interrupts (i.e. Udina and Leng), saved the Council in 1, destroyed the human Reaper in 2. Kaidan survived Virmire._

 _Begins directly after she takes the breath in the rubble of the Crucible. Will contain some noncanon background characters and some of my own speculations concerning what exactly happens in the Destroy ending._

 _Hopefully you find the same satisfaction in reading this that I take in writing it. Enjoy. :)_

* * *

Shepard struggled to remember where she was. The last thing she could remember seeing was the starry vastness of space, bright and distant, and utterly serene in the spite of cataclysmic disaster.

She willed herself to stay conscious, at least in what floating in-between state she was in. The blood that poured down her face was now dry, and her eyes could not will themselves to open. So she focused on remaining, on breathing. The windless, frigid air smelled of dust and wet iron. The rubble that surrounded her felt as if it were shifting, though she could not tell for certain - she could feel little through the agonizing pain that shrouded her ability to sense touch. Her limbs moved and shifted, though she had not commanded them to. She groaned in pain. She thought she could hear voices, but for the deafening ringing in her ears. She could just as easily have been imagining it.

She felt a sudden, sharp pressure in the side of her neck, and fell into a comfortable catatonia. She dreamed of a turian's electric blue eyes.

"Come back alive," he had said.

* * *

Shepard was coaxed back into consciousness so painfully slowly. With such tender patience. Far too quickly.

Her mind swam, and the first thing she was vaguely aware of was how very numb her body was. In the dark peace of her half-sleep, she tested her hand to see how much movement she could tease out of it. What she had intended to be a clenched fist was little more than a weak twitch of her fingers. Unwilling to put the effort into really processing her situation, she only felt distantly annoyed at her inability to articulate movement.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that the fog that had settled there were a result of heavy analgesics or sedatives, if not both. She could not decide if she were grateful or vexed at such apparently generous doses, so she settled somewhere in between.

As her ability to hear and process sound slowly returned to her, she began to listen. First, to her own steady breathing. Then to the periphery, to the slow hissing of her respirator, to the steady, comforting beeps that came from the heart rate monitor next to her. The sound was reassuring - that she was alive, and had kept some promise.

 _Why is that important...?_

Footsteps on hollow metal began to fill in the outer cracks of her hearing, accompanied by hushed feminine voices in a soft language she did not recognize.

She felt something pulling at her arm through the haze of the painkillers, and tried to look over to see what was happening. Her eyelids were leaden, and they did not obey her command to open.

When (with much effort) she was finally able to keep her eyes open for more than a quick instant, Shepard had to adjust her eyes to the bright white light that assaulted her blurry vision. Some clarity eventually returned to her eyesight, and she lolled her head to the side to try and gain some sense of her surroundings.

"Try not to move too quickly, Commander Shepard," a voice next to her chided. "You've been through a lot."

Shepard looked up, trying to see whoever was next to her. Her gaze settled on the round, pale lavender face of an asari in a white coat. Light markings dotted her face, giving the illusion of many freckles on her cheeks and forehead.

Shepard tried to reply, only to find her throat and mouth far too dry to speak.

"Don't worry, you'll have water soon," the asari continued. "Just focus on coming to - the sedatives are starting to wear off. You should be sentient again in an hour or so." She smiled, as if at some subtle joke.

Shepard felt relieved.

The asari left and came back quickly with a dripping pink sponge on a plastic stick. She lifted the mask of Shepard's respirator and stuck the sponge in her mouth. It tasted vile, but the water it held was divine.

Shepard lay quietly as her senses returned to her. She eventually found clarity of thought, and pressed a button at her side to bring her bed to a position that allowed her to sit upright. She tested her right hand again, and balled it easily into a tight, confident fist. Through the cottony haze that stuffed her skull, her head was throbbing. An ominous tightness was beginning to form in the core of her bones, but her muscles remained pleasantly numb. She looked down at her chest when some of the white blanket fell away, dismayed to find her left arm bound and in a sling.

The asari returned with a half full glass of water. Shepard took it, surprised at how shaky her hand was despite her newfound ability to move. Bringing it carefully to her lips, she was suddenly thankful that it was only half full.

The asari sat next to her, patient as Shepard quenched the deep thirst that had settled in the bottom of her throat.

Shepard spoke first, unsure of what else to ask, aside from, "Where am I?"

 _This sure as hell isn't the last place I remember being._

The asari smiled. "You are aboard the Cybaen, orbiting Earth." It was then that Shepard noticed the strange accent, how very lightly and carefully she touched her consonants, and how the vowels were somewhat different than she was used to hearing.

"You're speaking English," she replied, half asking.

"Correct. Your translator was severely damaged, but Tantra is in the process of repairing it. In the meantime, however, you and I can communicate with your own language. I must say I am excited to have the opportunity to practice again." She smiled.

Shepard nodded. It made sense that she might not have the chance often - the translators had become so common that learning an alien language was a purely academic and often fruitless endeavor. That being the case, she was stunned at how articulate the asari was in a human language.

"I should introduce myself," the asari continued after some pause. "My name is Dr. Vyrelle T'Gora. You have been aboard this ship for a little over what a human would consider a month and a half, and the majority of your injuries have healed, for the most part."

"How bad was it?" Shepard was displeased at how weak and unused her voice sounded. She hoped that effect would fade soon.

"Well, some would say you're lucky to be alive. I would say that you're just... you, and you still refuse to die."

Shepard raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't mean it like that," Vyrelle stammered. "Not in a sense that I resent your survival. I apologize. I've just heard the stories. Your willpower is remarkable. Anyway, you had some head trauma, but nothing too life threatening, unless you decided to do something stupid, like go to sleep. Which you did. But we found you in time. Your left arm was shattered, and it required some surgery to correct. As did your left leg, but it wasn't as severe. The bones are set, and you should be able to use it again within a few weeks. You're healing with remarkable speed, but most of your synthetic implants were badly damaged. We were able to recover some of them. Your ocular implants are miraculously fine, so no vision damage, and you get to keep the augmentations. We were able to repair the electrodes in your legs, so you'll still run quickly. No spinal injuries, aside from some strained muscles. Your translator and remote communications implants are still undergoing repair, and we weren't able to recover the augments to your left arm that I assume let you use some pretty seriously hefty weapons. The sniper rifle we found next to you is basically an arm cannon, but you won't be able to use it now without shattering your left shoulder. Again."

Shepard stared blankly, processing the near-diatribe she had been given. She paused thoughtfully.

"Hopefully I won't have a reason to use the Widow again."

Vyrelle nodded. "Considering both the Geth and the Reapers were taken out by that blast, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Shepard blinked. The Catalyst had actually worked. She wanted to smile now that the Reapers were gone, but all she could think about were the billions of lives sacrificed in defeating them.

Vyrelle saw the shift in her expression, and decided to change the topic. "If you're feeling well enough to get up, I wouldn't advise against walking around the ship a little. The bones in your leg healed nicely, and I'm sure your muscles could use the exercise."

Vyrelle stood and began gingerly removing bits of machinery from Shepard's body. She removed her mask, the IV, and the heart sensors. When the machines were turned off, Shepard found the med bay too silent.

She moved carefully, setting her bare feet on the cold metal floor before slowly putting weight on them. She was glad to have the opportunity to properly readjust to movement - it was a more pleasant awakening by far than the rude start she had had to accept after literally being rebuilt in Cerberus's labs.

She found movement easy, and the pain she felt was not the worst she had ever experienced - her muscles ached, as if from a particularly intense and careless workout. Some of them felt badly strained or pulled, but she could move. She was a soldier, after all. She moved quickly out of the medical wing, briefly examining her reflection in a window. She was in a rather advanced state of undress; at least, what she considered to be one. Where she was used to wearing heavy tactical armor, she was dressed in a soft pair of pants and a black tank top. The dark hair she usually kept in a tight bun fell heavily down to the small of her back. She was surprised for a moment that she had forgotten its gentle wave. Her skin was pale, and dotted with scars or healing bruises - the most significant of which left an inflamed blue streak over her left shoulder and down her arm until the bandage hid it.

She trod decisively out of the medical bay and into a long hallway. The dim light and the hidden wing reminded her of the SR1, before the Cerberus redesign. She smiled, wondering if there would also be a sluggish elevator.

She heard a loud din of chatter ahead, and the light brightened. The thought of seeing others pleased her. The scent of cooking food hung lightly in the air. Shepard's pace quickened, and she emerged into a common area, full of chatting asari, with a scant handful of members of other species. As Shepard moved into the room, it fell dead silent.

One of them trotted toward Shepard, excited and starstruck, until a companion gently pulled her back.

She stared, somewhat confused.

"You're a legend, Shepard," Vyrelle said softly, a few paces behind her. "You defeated the Reapers."

Shepard's expression fell serious. "No, I didn't."

"Of course you did. You set off the Crucible, and as far as they're concerned, saved the galaxy."

Shepard paused, shrinking at the attention. It was as if they were waiting for her to say something. She remembered that the people filling the room still had translators, and could probably understand her if she chose to address them.

The reverence they were showing her felt displaced.

"I didn't defeat the Reapers," she repeated, more loudly. The people in the room looked at her as she spoke. "My role was insignificant, and all of us would be dead if the galaxy hadn't joined forces to destroy them. I am one person. I didn't build the Crucible. I didn't hold the Reapers off while the Crucible was being readied. It fired because thousands worked together to make it successful, and the Reapers are gone because billions died fighting them."

She paused, considering her words carefully.

"Thank you for your kindness, for rescuing me from the rubble. But your respect is wasted on me. You owe it to the countless thousands who died fighting the threat. They are the ones who deserve to be honored."

Her good arm hung loose at her side, and she stared at nothing as she remembered Ashley, Anderson, Thane... all those who had sacrificed themselves so the Reaper threat wouldn't kill more.

She looked back up at the silent crowd, unsure what to expect. Some of them slowly returned to conversation, others simply fell silent. One asari stood, walking into the hallway behind Shepard, patting her shoulder weakly as she passed. A turian in the back of the room scoffed and left, and a few others who had been standing saluted her and returned to what they had been doing before.

Shepard sighed, wishing for privacy. Part of her was appreciative of their admiration. Part of her was glad the Reapers were gone.

The rest of her was just exhausted.


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus held the memorial plaque in his hands, brushing two fingers over the embossed edges of Commander Shepard's name.

He sighed, thinking of the only person in the galaxy he had ever loved with such fierce devotion, and the only person who had ever been reliably at his side. Shepard was a part of him. He winced at the memory of her clutching his hand and all but shoving him into the cruiser and declaring her love for him undying, even if it outlived her. It was the first time he told her he loved her back, and he refused to let it be the last. It had felt so pathetically inadequate.

He had actually prayed for her after that door shut.

He had spent nearly an hour arguing with Kaidan that it was unnecessary and presumptuous to put Shepard's name on the wall of the dead, or Anderson's. He had no reason to believe that Shepard was gone, and he was frankly furious at Joker for turning tail and not searching the wreckage for her.

He looked up at the memorial wall, reading over the names of the lost - people he had truly respected, many of them friends. He turned around, holding the plastic namecard in both hands. He slowly looked each and every person gathered in front of him in the eye, saving an especially long glare or Kaidan, and wordlessly snapped the nameplate twice over one knee.

He shoved his way through the gaping crowd and tossed the pieces roughly into the nearest trashbin. He marched into the main battery, sincerely wishing he had five fingers so he could give Kaidan the proper human gesture so he knew he could go fuck himself.

He shut the door behind him, setting it to lock from the inside so no one could bother him. He needed to be alone.

He checked the Normandy's trajectory map on the screen to his left. They had crash landed on a civilization preserve planet in Alpha Centauri. Phaethon was beautiful, but they had needed to leave. When advanced civilizations made direct or uncareful contact with much younger ones, the results were typically disastrous for both parties.

The Normandy was on steady course back toward the Sol system - Garrus had made sure of that, as well as he had made sure he was thorough when he told Joker off. Not having EDI made the ship somewhat lonelier - he had to admit that Normandy was something less for her loss - something almost lacking soul. However, he found Joker's intent to try to save her unacceptable, especially when he seemed unwilling to afford Shepard the same thing.

They would be back in the Sol system in about a week. They had been travelling for nearly two months now, and they had to plot their course cleverly around known planets and fuel stations. FTL was still a boon, but the loss of the mass relays was both devastating and dangerous for travel. In the back of his mind, Garrus wondered how long ago it was that the ship had last been allowed to discharge its drive core. He knew they were playing with fire travelling between systems without the relays, but they had little choice.

He took a self-taken photo of Shepard and himself off the wall. He sat on the floor and stared at her face for a long while.

"Garrus, you're brooding. Let me in." Three sharp bangs on the door accompanied Tali's muted voice.

Garrus sighed and wordlessly unlocked the door. Tali entered, closing the door behind her and leaning against a wall across from him.

"So?" she prompted.

"So what?" Garrus refused to look up.

"Don't give me that. Talk to me, Garrus."

He sighed. "She's not dead, Tali. I refuse to believe it."

"I honestly don't know what to believe," she replied, slumping. "We don't have any proof she's... gone. But her comms are out, and you saw that explosion..."

"Right. An explosion takes her out, when being spaced, verifiably suffocating, and burning up in a planet's atmosphere doesn't. Right after Kai Leng, and the thresher maw on Akuze." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Shepard doesn't die. We don't have any reason to believe she isn't alive. Putting her name on that wall is nothing short of a damned insult."

"I understand, and I want to agree with you, it's just..."She paused. "... we'll be back in Sol soon enough. We'll know something then." She stood to leave. "Just promise me you won't strangle Kaidan before we get there for wanting to remember her."

He nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the photo.

"And Garrus?"

He looked up.

"I want you to know that it's okay to grieve."

She walked out. The door closed, and Garrus was hit with a desperate, clawing loneliness. He buried his face in the crook of his arm, longed for Shepard, and refused to cry for her.


	3. Chapter 3

Shepard had spent a few days adjusting to the Cybaen's crew, and allowing them to adjust to her presence. She was sparse in her interactions - she felt rather isolated, actually. They had grown to think of her as a celebrity, if not a living legend, and many of them didn't seem to know that it was okay to talk to her as if she were a person.

The reverent tone many took toward her was humbling at first. It had officially crossed over to annoying.

It was a strange change of pace when she found something that was quite the opposite.

Shepard had taken to remaining in the med bay, since there were no real quarters that could be spared for her that weren't communal. The asari were far more social than she felt, and a bunk in the crew rooms would have been awkward for everyone.

Her translator had been repaired and reinstalled, and the strange lag that the older one was unable to fix was no longer a problem. Vyrelle no longer carried an accent, although when Shepard experimentally turned her translator off when she was mid-sentence, she was surprised to find that the doctor was still speaking English around her. She had smirked and shrugged it off.

Shepard sat on the bed, reminded of Urdnot Bakara when she was in a similar position back on the Normandy. The Cybaen's med bay was far larger - so much so that there were fogged glass walls between each bed, and a separate surgical ward. She wondered what Chakwas would think of it. The Cybaen itself was a gorgeous cruiser. It was twice the size of the Normandy, and the asari had built it exquisitely around a power core that could easily have sustained a dreadnought. Still, Shepard felt out of place. The Normandy was home. She let out a breathy half-laugh, wondering if the fish in her cabin were still alive.

She decided to walk to clear her head, and to see if any communications had come through. She had been informed that Communications Specialist Noros was making ongoing attempts to contact the Normandy, but had not successfully patched through yet. Shepard held out hope - she frankly had no idea where they were, but she had faith that her crew would come back for her.

She hoped they didn't think she was dead, the way many others seemed to.

She walked through the hallways, trying to stay out of the more densely populated regions of the ship. She sent a private message to Noros from her Omni, asking if anything had come through yet. Her response was swift, and disappointingly negatory.

Shepard sighed, walking quietly to a room she heard no noise from. She wanted to be alone, but not in the med bay. She opened the door to an observation deck, instantly drawn to the immense window that overlooked her home planet.

Shepard unconsciously moved forward and touched her fingers to the frigid glass, watching cold fog form around her warm fingertips. The planet below was as bright and green as ever, and the few patches of angry orange did little to dissuade her that Earth was still, even after all the awful war, gorgeous. The Illusive Man's last words were at least not wasted, and she did see what he saw.

"Glad to see your planet safe?" A deep voice shook Shepard from her reverie. She turned around, seeing a turian in blue armor, shattered on the left side of the collar. Her heart skipped a beat. _It can't be..._

She examined his face. Red face paint, no scars. _It isn't._ Disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach. She missed Garrus with terrible and demanding persistence.

The turian surveyed Shepard and scoffed. "At least one of us gets to go home, right? And by the spirits, of course, it's you." He gestured at her, indignant and sarcastic.

Shepard's brow furrowed. "You must be Kyrrik. My pleasure." Vyrelle had told her his name, or at least that there was a turian aboard by that name. She hadn't met any others, so she felt safe in assuming.

"In the flesh. What an _honor_ it is to meet you, Commander Shepard." He put emphasis on the word, glaring. She was unsure how to react - no one had been that rude to her without having a damned good reason. She would be suspicious of him if he sounded anything less than bitter.

His gaze was drawn to the window, and his mouth opened. It shut just as quickly. Shepard turned to the window, seeing the tail end of an Alliance frigate, with NORMANDY painted proudly on its side. She gasped in surprise, and Kyrrik glared.

"I have to go, Commander. Your crew seems to have stumbled upon us." Before he reached the door, he turned around and pointed at her, adding, "You'd better be damned grateful they're alive. Not all of us are so lucky."

Shepard practically ran to the main deck.

* * *

Joker stared at the screens in front of him. His cockpit was extremely quiet, and he missed EDI. He inwardly cursed the Reapers for costing him someone he had cared about, and even if she had been an AI, the grief he felt for losing her was very, very real.

Though he had been unwilling to divulge the information to Garrus, he hadn't fled the Crucible blast to save EDI. He hadn't even known it was going to hurt her, and that hurt him more. As much as he wished to rub it in the turian's face that no, he wasn't trying to save his girlfriend, he had to restrain himself. He knew that Garrus was probably going through the same thing, not knowing if Shepard was alive.

But he did hope to find a decent time to tell him that EDI had gone out saving them, not the other way around. She had pointed out Harbinger's signature in time to run from it - Normandy had been chased out of the Sol System under threat of massive casualties. Joker wasn't going to let any more of them die, if he could help it. He had seen firsthand what the Collectors would do.

He had returned to Earth's orbit because he knew it was safe to do so now. He had returned to see if Shepard or Anderson were still out there, and he had returned to see his home.

His comm link flashed, and he looked up. He tapped the icon to patch it through to the cockpit. The message from Specialist Trainor that accompanied it informed him that it was an asari signature, from a cruiser called the Cybaen. The name looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"...baen to Alliance Frigate Normandy," the call came through riddled with static, likely from damaged equipment, but it came through well enough.

"Normandy," he answered.

"Normandy, this is Captain Nisaya Iaora of the Asari High Command Cruiser Cybaen speaking. We have an asset of high interest to you. We request that you dock aboard the Destiny Ascention to meet with us."

"Affirmative. We have visual on it, we'll be there soon." Joker forwarded the information to Alenko and steered his ship toward the dreadnought.

* * *

Shepard stood next to Captain Iaora, ecstatic to hear Joker's voice. It had taken monumental self restraint not to speak and ruin the surprise. A note of nervousness tied a knot in the pit of her stomach, but she tried her best to ignore it.

They walked out of the Cybaen's cockpit after thanking Noros for getting them through.

The Cybaen docked quickly on the Destiny Ascention. Shepard was surprised that it was still in Earth's orbit, and not headed home toward Asari space. Captain Iaora informed her that they were leaving in waves, not all at once - there were still survey teams active, and patrols making sure that no Reapers had survived.

The dreadnought was enormous, and Shepard was stunned at its size. It was built like a military base, and it reminded her of a more sterile and far more organized incarnation of the Citadel.

She tried not to remember the bodies that had littered it on her final visit.

Shepard and the group that accompanied her were quickly directed to a boardroom reserved for negotiations. It took nearly half an hour to walk to, and they were served food when they arrived.

Shepard sat, waiting and worrying. Her hair was back in its neat bun, and she had been given asari military greaves to wear as an alternative to the pajamas supplied in the med bay. She'd have worn her N7 armor, were it not completely charred and shattered. She was thankful that they'd kept it for her.

She folded her hands and let her food go cold.

* * *

Garrus, Kaidan, and Liara paced at the door of the Normandy. Since Kaidan was both a senior officer and the only Spectre aboard, he had been granted temporary command, and thus the ability to choose the docking party. He chose to bring Liara since the Destiny Ascention was an asari ship, and Garrus so that he could try and ease some of the tension between them.

He was not entirely happy he was going into what was probably a negotiation meeting without knowing what they were negotiating for, but the allied cruiser suggested it was low-risk.

They were swiftly ushered to a secluded board room, and greeted by Captain Iaora.

They were welcomed inside with what seemed like far too much prelude. When they entered the room, Kaidan stood speechless when he saw why they had been summoned. Liara gasped in a fusion of delight and disbelief.

Garrus wanted to fall to his knees.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N So far it's been pretty fluffy, but I've got some plans for this fic yet. Thanks for sticking around, you all rock! :-)  
In case any of you are curious and because the spelling is pretty weird, Iaora's name is pronounced (at least in my head) eye-ora :p_

* * *

Shepard stood, wordless.

She could not will herself to do anything other than take quick, decisive steps toward Garrus, just barely managing not to run.

She gathered him in a tight hug, careful about her only recently uncasted left arm. He instinctively pulled her closer, and they stood together in a muted embrace for a long while.

Shepard hugged Liara next. Both of them smiled, and the embrace was brief.

She stood in front of Kaidan, and he shook her hand. He would have been stunned, had embarrassment not won him over. Garrus had been right, and Kaidan had made an ass of himself back on the ship.

Iaora approached the group, signaling for the group to seat themselves.

"So," Shepard quickly broke the silence, turning toward Iaora. "Given that I was pretty decidedly unconscious when you found me, would you mind filling in the blanks for us?"

Iaora chuckled. "I'd be happy to. The scouting team from the Cybaen was one of probably six search parties on the Crucible looking for you. Lucky for us, and you, we found you first."

" _Probably_ six?" Garrus questioned. Efforts like that were usually more organized.

The Captain turned toward him. "When the blast went off, it didn't only kill the Reapers and the Synthetics. It acted as a powerful EMP at close vicinity, and we lost all power and communications pretty much instantly. As you can imagine, it was quite awhile before we were able to get everything back online, and there are still plenty of ships that no one's heard from since. Cybaen had already been assigned to find survivors at the first sign of negative contact. We had heard Shepard and Anderson made it through the conduit, and our close proximity to the Crucible made them a priority. All we knew at the time was that we weren't the only team there."

"Did you find Anderson?" Kaidan hoped his instinct was wrong.

Shepard shook her head, turning toward Alenko before Iaora had a chance to speak. "Anderson died next to me. The Illusive Man shot him a few minutes before I had the chance to fire the Crucible."

Liara looked at Shepard, incredulous. "The Illusive Man? What was he doing-"

"I'll explain later," Shepard interjected. "And it's not important right now. He's dead, and without him, hopefully so is Cerberus. But... Anderson. Anderson died a hero."

She trailed off.

 _You did good, child. You did good. I'm proud of you._

Shepard unconsciously put a hand to her chest where she had been badly wounded during their final conversation, and felt a deep, dull pain where the bullet had pierced. Even when she had every reason to be happy, grief had become a seemingly permanent part of her existence. Her blank expression twitched as yet another wave of it washed through her blood.

Shepard looked up, peering immediately at Kaidan. "Spectre Alenko, status report on the Normandy's crew."

Kaidan was surprised at the command that her voice immediately assumed, but his reply was instinctive. "No injuries to report, Commander. Joker did a damned good job getting us out of there in one piece. The Normandy did suffer one casualty."

Shepard wordlessly prompted him to speak, intent nearly to the point of glaring.

"EDI hasn't been online since the Crucible went off, Commander."

Shepard put a fist on the table and let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head. EDI had been both an ally and a good friend.

"How's Joker holding up?"

"He's been better. He's been through hell lately, Shepard; we all have."

Shepard paused, letting the news settle. She reminded herself to pick up something to drink for Joker at her next chance.

She glanced back up at Iaora. "Anything else worth knowing?"

"Nothing else to report," she replied, "other than the Reapers are dead, and your help might be appreciated planetside as soon as you're done healing."

Vyrelle piped up. "I give that about a week. Your arm should be completely healed soon enough, and we did reinforce it with some bone mesh. Left leg, too, but it wasn't nearly as bad. I advise against using the arm cannon again. You were badly concussed when we found you, so don't move your head too quickly. Try not to overstretch your lower abdomen. You've got some scattered deep bruising otherwise, but it's all relatively minor. Your burns have healed nicely, but your skin might itch occasionally."

Shepard smiled, nodding. She turned toward the group of asari. "Noted, Dr. T'Gora. Thank you all for your help. I doubt I'd have made it without you. I'm in your debt."

Iaora stifled a laugh. "Not as such, Commander. We were already indebted to you for saving all of our asses."

She nodded, smirking. "Then consider us even."

They all stood to leave, and Shepard was impatient to see the Normandy again. She saluted Captain Iaora.

As the two groups left the room and turned to part ways, Shepard turned when she felt a light hand on her shoulder. Vyrelle spoke barely above a whisper.

"I heard about your run-in with Kyrrik. I just wanted to ask you not to hold it against him, while I still have the chance. The war cost him his unit and his family, and he's been trying to drown it. Malvarus has lost a lot."

Shepard nodded, remembering Akuze, and the thresher maws that took out her entire squadron.

"I thought that might be the case. No offense taken. If it comes up, let him know that I can empathize, and that I send my condolences."

Vyrelle nodded, and Shepard clutched her hand. "Thank you."

The groups parted, and Shepard was happy to be among friends.

* * *

Shepard laughed out loud when she and the shore party had to stand through yet another decontamination. She had missed the Normandy dearly.

She walked aboard. The sound of a cough would have torn open the silence her presence inspired, and everyone who had been sitting stood and saluted as she walked through the hallway toward her old helm.

Alenko followed suit with them, facing Shepard to salute. She returned the gesture, first serious, then smiling and shaking her head slightly.

"Well," she said at last, addressing her crew, "at ease, all of you. I'm back, and nothing has changed. Spectre Alenko has the floor until further notice." One by one, they returned to their stations.

She discreetly took Garrus's hand, treading swiftly across the command center and pulling him into the elevator with her. She prompted the console to lift them to her cabin.

The elevator gave a faint ding as the elevator doors opened, and she put her hand to the red command pad in front of her cabin door. Recognizing her fingerprints, it unlocked, and she wondered why the hell it was ever sealed in the first place.

Garrus moved the box that contained what possessions of Shepard's the asari had recovered, and set it just inside her door. It was heavier than he expected. Peering inside, he wondered where they had found her tank of a sniper rifle.

Shepard walked slowly through her room. Her model ships were all present and unbroken. Her fish were still alive, for the most part. She guessed that the turbulance from evasive maneuvers had claimed a couple of goldfish casualties.

Normandy's low breath was still in the air, and it comforted her like a lullaby. Shepard took a deep breath. She spread her arms and examined her unscuffed quarters.

"Cerberus can seriously go fuck themselves, but damn if this ship isn't home."

Garrus laughed. "Seconded. Glad to hear you missed us, Shepard." He approached her from behind and took her hand. "Because I sure missed the hell out of you."

She turned to face him, placing her free hand on his shoulder. "More than you know, Garrus."

He brushed a hand across her cheek, and trailed his fingers under the ridge of her jaw. "I'm glad you kept your promise. There's no Vakarian without Shepard."

He bent low to kiss her. She held him close, and tears welled in her eyes at the feel of his touch. They silently broke away, and she sat on the bed. It was softer than she remembered.

"So why was the door locked?" Shepard's curiosity finally got the better of her.

"Not sure," Garrus lied. "Probably just a side effect of the blast. We did have a few glitches pop up here and there."

In truth, he had asked Joker to make that room inaccessible, for Garrus's own sake. Had Shepard not made it, and had Garrus wandered bereaved into the one place that teemed most with her life - her possessions, her scent, his memories... he hadn't imagined that ending well.

Silence filled the air. Shepard held a withdrawn, pensive expression.

Garrus sat next to her. "Everything alright?"

Shepard looked down. "They were awfully quick to put Anderson's name on the memorial wall."

Garrus was surprised she had noticed - he hadn't seen her even glance at it. "You're damn right they were. I made sure he heard exactly why he was a presumptuous jackass for putting it there before we had confirmation, too."

He sighed, irritated. _Bastard tried to put you right up there with him._

Shepard assumed he was talking about Alenko, but she didn't ask to confirm her suspicion. She didn't care.

"I'm just glad the Illusive Man got what he goddamned deserved." Her voice dripped with every ounce of the dark bitterness she felt. "Inconsistent wad of shit's dead, and I hope his festering, hypocritical excuse for an organization died right along with him."

Garrus put his arm around her waist. "He can't take anyone else away from you, Shepard."

She leaned against him.

"Do you remember Corporal Toombs, Garrus?"

Garrus distinctly remembered the man who had killed himself years ago, right in front of Shepard, after his confrontation with a Cerberus scientist who had run unspeakable experiments on him. The only other soldier who had survived Akuze. Another soldier Shepard had been powerless to save.

"Vaguely, yes. I do remember him."

"He and I used to play cards together. Hell, we went to basic training together. Out of everyone in that unit, Garrus, he was the only one I could really call my friend. I just..."

Black hate, violent and pure, gripped her heart. The vitriol and venom toward all that Cerberus did to hurt and hinder her filled her mind, and it was beyond words. She paused, at a loss. She let out an exasperated sigh.

"I... I hope he's found peace."

"Spirits, Shepard, I hope they all have." Garrus leaned back, falling into the mattress. "This has been one hell of a war."

Shepard relaxed, leaning back and sprawling out on the bed. Garrus pulled her close. She was glad he wasn't in armor this time.

"It's not over yet," she grumbled, finding a comfortable way to lie completely intertwined with her boyfriend. "There's a lot of rebuilding to do back on Earth."

He draped an arm lazily over her waist, closing his eyes.

"Well, they can wait a little longer. You're mine right now."

Shepard nodded, and finally allowed herself to acknowledge how tired she was. She fell asleep, comfortable and finally safe with someone she loved.

She dreamed she was on the Crucible, sitting uninjured and laughing with Toombs and Anderson as they overlooked their peaceful planet.


	5. Chapter 5

Shepard awoke, and immediately regretted her instinct to stretch. Her muscles still ached.

She glanced at the greaves heaped on the floor, and smirked at Garrus's bare, snoring chest. The early morning they had made likely wouldn't help ease her soreness. But then, that was part of the point, wasn't it?

She stood silently, moving over to her clothing chest. She chose the blue Alliance Navy uniform she had become fond of wearing on the Normandy. It still fit like a glove. She brushed her hair and pinned it to her head, moving swiftly out of her cabin. She still felt bone tired and was in some pain, but she felt unable to shirk her responsibilities any longer.

As she walked through the Command Information Center, she reassumed her post of command and nodded at the salutes she was uniformly shown.

Her path lead immediately and silently into the cockpit. Joker was intent on his screens as he always was, and Shepard lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Commander. Glad you're back." The welcome in his voice was genuine, but he did not turn around.

"You doing okay, Joker?"

"Well, EDI's avatar is in the AI core, but we don't know a thing about where she is." _If Garrus could hold out hope for you, I can hold out hope for her._

Shepard's mouth formed a thin line. He was in denial, but she didn't want to be the one to break him. Besides, there were plenty of good tech specialists still around. She shrugged off the thought, not wanting to linger on it.

Guessing why she had come, Joker pointed toward a button on the wall. "Intercom's up and running, Commander."

"Thanks," she replied, wishing she knew of anything she could say to comfort him. He was obviously distant, and she didn't know that there was anything that could help him but time.

 _That's the thing about getting old,_ Garrus had told her once. _The platitudes get just as old._

She pressed down on the intercom button and adjusted the microphone. Static clicked in the air as the comm system engaged. She took a breath, and summoned a confident tone.

"Normandy, this is Commander Shepard speaking.

I'm aware of the rumors that have surrounded the Crucible, but I'm still here with you.

This war has been the most monumental challenge ever faced in the history of this galaxy. I want you to know that it was your efforts and the sacrifices of our colleagues, friends, and families that turned the tide. The Reapers cost us dearly.

Their intention was indiscriminate death of all advanced species. We defied them until the end, and their arrogance and thirst for innocent blood cost them their lives. They are no more, and they can take no more of us.

More lives than any of us can count were taken. Our friends, our family members, our squadmates, our children... I want you to know that they all rest in peace and honor after the Reapers' defeat. Those who are no longer with us fought and died at our side, and they paid the price for our freedom. They will not be forgotten, and they live on in our memories and in the peace they helped us win.

It's time now to focus our attention on rebuilding. We are setting trajectory for London so we can help ground efforts in reclaiming Earth for humanity and resettling survivors.

We have won this war. Normandy, Earth is ours again.

Shepard out."

She released the button. She patted Joker's shoulder once before leaving the cockpit.

She headed immediately for the crew deck. Her eyes lingered on Anderson's name on the wall as the elevator door opened, but she didn't stay to ponder. She stepped into the med bay and opened the door of the AI core.

EDI's avatar lay on the same podium it was set on when they first recovered it. Shepard's hand moved to EDI's, and she shook her head when she saw her eyes, stuck open and lifeless. The avatar itself appeared undamaged, but she knew that EDI wasn't there.

She left the core and closed the door behind her. She paused to silently hug Chakwas. She was happy to see her safe.

Shepard had gone to every part of the Normandy to greet her crew in person. She was overjoyed that her crew was in one piece, and that Cortez came out unscathed from the Harvester attack on his shuttle.

She had missed Tali, and the observation deck had felt empty without Samara.

She watched from the port observation deck as the Normandy touched down on Earth.

London was a smoking ruins, and the massive corpses of Reapers littered the ground.

* * *

Shepard walked through the streets of London, marveling at how worn down the city had become in such a short amount of time. Entire blocks had been decimated. What buildings still stood were either heavily barricaded or were completely bereft of windows and doors, or were missing entire walls. Rubble lined the streets. It was obvious that the path she was on was commonly used for foot traffic - the path in the piled debris was narrow, and officials had taken care to move the numberless bodies elsewhere.

A bent green street sign fell with a loud clamor at her feet. Shepard kicked it over to examine the text - Sheraton Street. She reached for the gun attached at the back of her armor, watchful for any hostiles.

Two figures approached, obscured by the clouds of dust before them. Shepard raised her weapon, wary.

"Stand down, Shepard, it's just us." Jacob emerged from the cloud, and Brynn followed close after him. On her hip, she clutched a very young child. The toddler's wide brown eyes stared at Shepard. She was dressed in tatters.

Shepard put her weapon away. "How's it going, Jacob?" Their hands met in a close handshake at chest height.

"Glad to see you alive and well, Commander. Most people assumed you died." He took a breath. "Earth's seen better days, but we're moving forward. We just have to find somewhere to put everyone, alive or otherwise."

Shepard nodded. "How's the situation on resources?"

Jacob shook his head. "Food and medical supplies are the obvious priorities, and we're running short on both. Shelter is a commodity, too. People with nowhere else to go are coming here in droves, but London's big enough that we haven't had to turn anyone away yet. The policy is generally 'either set up a tent or take your own risk going inside.'"

"The buildings aren't looking great."

"Right. Most of them in this area are incredibly old, and those bricks weren't meant to last forever. The ones that are intact are packed with people, and every once in awhile..."

He trailed off.

Brynn spoke up. "Some of these old apartments... during the thick of the war, there were people who didn't think there was any chance. Sometimes there are bodies in the beds, or in the baths, or just..."

"That's heartbreaking," Liara replied. "Though, I suppose I can see why. Perhaps they thought they weren't going to make it either way."

"Let's not dwell on that," Garrus cut in. "What's the situation on the survivors?"

"Medical facilities are still pretty busy," Brynn replied. "But for the most part, the fallout from the war has ebbed. The ones we were able to save are well on the path to healing, for the most part. Schools have been set up, and people are trying to piece normality back together."

"Speaking of schools, Shepard," James turned to her. "There's a small facility for teenage biotics that went undamaged, and it's back up and running. One of the teachers there might know you."

Shepard smiled. _Jack._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N knocked down the rating because I don't really intend to write anything particularly graphic. :-p_

 _Sorry for the late post! Had to trudge through the rest of my finals ;w;_

 _Thanks for sticking around, I hope you're enjoying the fic. Reviews and critiques are always welcome. You're all wonderful :D_

* * *

Shepard trod silently between Garrus and Liara down the destroyed street. Jacob and Brynn had bade them farewell and resumed their own path.

Shepard looked up, surveying the height of the decimated buildings. High above her, enormous chunks of cement held onto the tops of buildings by what seemed like threads of metal, and looked ready to crash down at any second. The streets were silent but for their footsteps, and the distant clamor of digging efforts elsewhere.

A patch of green as they walked took them by surprise. A blackened metal fence surrounded what looked like a small park, whose sparse trees miraculously stood with only minor damage. Garrus brushed the dust off of a deteriorated sign that he guessed had once been white. The damaged letters informed him that he was at Soho Square.

They silently stepped down the nearly ancient flagstone path. The grass had been torn to pieces, and stray bits of rubble were strewn about.

Shepard paused to examine her surroundings.

Rectangular patches of soil had been recently turned. Uniformly lined, they were each surrounded by stones. Shepard paused with sudden realization.

"No wonder it's so quiet here," She commented under her breath. This was a graveyard.

She signaled for Garrus and Liara to turn back, and quickly left the grounds.

In the corner of her eye, Shepard saw something metallic glint in the muted sunlight.

She peered down. Atop a patch of overturned soil, someone had carefully placed a model Alliance frigate toy. She pressed her lips together, looked forward again, and departed with her teammates.

* * *

"Come on, you're not allowed to be tired yet," Jack chided. "This rubble isn't gonna just grow feet and walk off. You guys just survived the biggest damned war in galactic history, you can throw some concrete."

The teenagers gathered in front of her used their biotic abilities to move large blocks of concrete and heavy chunks of rubble out of the way, into neater piles than the Reapers had left them in. The were quickly becoming exhausted.

Truth be told, her students both needed and deserved rest. The cleanup service they were providing the camp was valuable, though, and she couldn't let other settlers feel as if they were trying to take a free ride. What food they were able to pool together had been rationed months ago, right after the war officially ended. The unfortunate truth was that there was more being spent than gained, and Jack knew that they'd be running out soon. When that time came, people were going to have to prove they deserved to eat.

Jack was hearing whispers of it already.

She paced, perplexed. London had seen a massive influx of war refugees, especially from smaller or less well-off areas. The camp she was in was in the center of what used to be Westminster, among burned out brick buildings. They were now relying on old stores of dry rice and canned food, and the question of feeding everyone was omnipresent.

She let out a breath against the chilly air. Damn Cerberus to hell, living at Grissom had been nice.

 _Damn Cerberus_ , she thought. _And fuck the Reapers for laying waste to my home planet before I got to even see it_. She kicked over a chunk of white stone, wishing she could have visited Earth before it was destroyed. The rubble at her feet could easily have been fragments of statues that had been thousands of years old.

She jumped when she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. She turned around, ready to hit someone for sneaking up on her. She saw the N7 insignia on a black metal chestplate. She looked up, seeing the face of the last person she had expected to ever see again.

"Commander Shepard." She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to the other leg, smiling.

"Jack." Shepard offered a hand, smiling. "It's good to see everyone's safe."

Jack smirked. "For the most part, anyway. Rodriguez is hanging out in the med center with a torn ankle. Couldn't walk out of the way of the wires, I guess." She paused, shifting. "I'm glad to see you alive, Shepard. That stunt you pulled seemed pretty impossible."

"As impossible as the suicide mission we both survived?"

"Fair point. Hey, I've gotta get back to helping them clear this area. I feel like a jerk standing around while they bust ass. Catch you later, Shepard."

"Sure thing." Shepard walked toward a less damaged and much more well populated building, guessing by the number of people there that it was of at least some significance. She had made it to the center of the camp. She was surprised they were calling it that - it was more of a makeshift settlement that was in bad need of repair. With the sheer number of people there combined with the amount who were bound to know how to use drills and lifts, she doubted it'd be in shambles for much longer.

She looked into the distance as she walked at an area that had been flattened. She saw a familiar silhouette, somewhat deflated now that it was its own version of dead. The destroyed remains of a Reaper rest about half a mile away. Shepard was surprised that a camp had been established so close to one, until she prompted her ocular implants to scope it. It only somewhat augmented her vision, but it was enough for her to see the massive allocations of troops that surrounded the corpse. _Interesting._

She blinked, readjusting her vision. She walked into the nearby building, guessing by the sounds and the haphazard signs donning blue crosses that this was the medical center Jack had mentioned. She walked down the hallway, searching for someone who could direct her with where she and her team could help. Most of the people there were too distracted by their pain to notice Shepard, and the doctors and their assistants were too busy helping them to pay much heed to anyone else. This place was simultaneously the calmest and most frantic setting Shepard had seen in a long while. It was an odd combination.

"Oh good, Alliance colors," a British-lilted voice sounded a few feet away. "Hopefully there are some supplies we can - Shepard?"

To Shepard's left, Miranda stood in her old white.

Garrus stepped forward "Miranda, nice to see you. We have some news you might be interested in."

"You have medical equipment?"

"I-" Garrus paused. "No. My apologies. I was going to tell you that someone of interest -" Shepard elbowed him to cut him off.

Miranda lowered her eyebrows. "Tact really isn't important to me, considering the setting I'm currently in." She sighed. "Bandits and death are common news now. There's not a lot left that can really bother me, as long as it doesn't involve Oriana."

Miranda looked to her side and turned around, motioning for the three of them to follow. She lead them into a small, sunlit waiting room. One of the windows had been shattered and the hole covered in tarp to keep out the chill. Miranda sat down, and Shepard, Garrus and Liara followed suit.

"So what's this news?" Miranda asked.

Shepard shifted, crossing one leg over the other. "Right before I fired the Crucible, I had to kill the Illusive Man."

"Figures," she scoffed, looking briefly at the ceiling. "His death was obvious when Cerberus stopped operating to standard."

"To standard?" Shepard asked, incredulous. "They're still _around_?"

"Damn right they are," a voice came from the door. Jack entered, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms. "Still kidnapping kids and all. From what I can tell, they're still operating by the same standards they always were, Cheerleader. Murder, theft, the whole fuckin' package."

"This doesn't concern you, Jack." Miranda stood, defensive.

"Calm down, lady, I'm just here to check up on one of my guys." She turned toward Shepard. "Figures, you're gone for five minutes and you're already talking to her again. Just like old times."

Shepard opened her mouth to defend herself, but Miranda cut her off. She was just barely not glaring at Jack.

"We've done this before." Her words were a dangerous sort of calm. "I won't dignify it again. If you can't converse calmly, leave."

Jack smiled, putting her hands in the air palliatively. "Whatever you want, princess. I'm just here to check up on Rodriguez. Besides, Shepard knows who to trust." She laughed, shook her head, and departed.

Shepard sighed, leaning back. "So, Cerberus."

Miranda sat back down. "Cerberus is just a name now. It may as well be a mercenary group. There are bands of operatives trying to get to the dead Reapers. Some of them are researchers, and the rest are looters. I have my doubts that most of them even worked for Cerberus prior to the war. Without the Illusive Man, there's no organization to it."

"That explains the guards. Any ideas on what to do about it?"

"Nothing yet," Miranda replied. "But I think that if I can take over the Illusive Man's post, I might be able to make a difference."


End file.
